Johanna Mason
by Zelized
Summary: "There is no one left I love." This story is one I started long ago, and have decided to continue on this account. Provides character background to Johanna Mason. Long Fic. featuring Mason/Other, Mason/Odair, Mason/Hawthorne.


**Chapter 1: The Night Before**

Lightning illuminated the sky through the branches of the trees above my head. Immediately, through instinct I began to count the seconds between the flash and the earth-shaking sound that was to follow.

_"One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six" _

The vibration of the noise seemed to penetrate my bones due to its intensity. The air has this feeling about it and although no rain has yet appeared, I know it is coming. I guess after seventeen years of practically living in the forest you are expected to at least understand weather and the way it works with our environment.

It is fairly dark for five o'clock in the afternoon but with storm clouds blocking the sun, this fact seems reasonable. Really, I should move now and avoid the risk of catching some temporary illness, but I figure tomorrow will go one of two ways: I will either be able to go home in the afternoon and sleep off whatever sickness I may contract; or my name will appear on a tiny slip of paper pulled from a stupidly large glass bowl and thus I will be shipped off to the Capitol, where they will with no doubt shove various concoctions down my throat until I am better.

Another flash and crash caused by the storm filled up my senses. Currently, I'm in no immediate danger apart from my enemy, time, slowly bringing closer my inescapable fate. I lay my head back against the rough bark of the oak and close my eyes. The soil around the roots is loose enough to allow my fingers to bury themselves beneath the surface. I have always loved the smell of the forest, and the rain, and dirt. I don't often get to adventure here on my own but, of course, the day before the reaping is generally spent setting up 'the festivities' in the town square where which very few lumberjacks are required. As I am under the age of eighteen, I was released from those responsibilities.

There are several career paths in District Seven. Yes, the Capitol has so generously given us several tree related activities where from the age of ten you can choose in what area you wish to apply yourself for the rest of your measly life. By '_choose_' I mean it's compulsory, unless you are lucky enough to have enough money or power to be excused, or if you have gone through trials that state you are 'unfit' to work. That option is generally only available for the pregnant, elderly or disabled. The wealthy are predominately from merchant households. I guess the Capitol's requirements of the luxury that is paper and furniture is far more important than the education and lifestyle of District 7's children. Mind you, we are talking about the same Capitol that shoves a group of twenty-four children into an arena to fight to the death, so I guess a failed education system is hardly inexcusable.

In the summer season of every year, the newly aged ten-year-old's are taken into the forest by peace keepers and given axes. Over six weeks, basic training is given to everyone and the trials are held to determine who is best with an axe and logging equipment. Those who qualify, such as myself, are recruited as lumberjacks. The strongest of the children are trained to become load pullers and lead climbers. The weaker and more sensitive children are placed in paper factories or start learning trades such as furniture manufacturing and carpentry.

Another crack of thunder reverberated in the air around me. The sound was barely three seconds after the flash this time; meaning the lightning struck a few three miles away. A drop of water fell against my long unkempt hair heavily. I look up squinting through the darkness. Suddenly, three more drops fall onto my cheeks and roll down my neck. I look down again as drop followed by continuous drops begin to fall heavily on my skin. I sigh deeply. The rain struck my skin like icy needles, yet I refuse to acknowledge any thought of movement. Going home only means facing an anxious family. I mean, they are positive enough and tougher than most, but I think all families with kids can't help but be worried on days like today. As I turned seventeen the other day my name is in the pool six times. My two elder brothers, my father and myself are all lumberjacks: the highest paying lumber concentrated profession. Though our pay is still small, we are middle class and one of few lucky families that have been able to avoid tesserae, even after my mother's passing. This also allowed for my younger sister to remain the sensitive soul that she is. Every year, I become more and more eager to just slip through the cracks for another year and avoid the reaping, but each new slip of paper added to that bowl makes it harder for me to believe everything will be okay.

Finally, I breathe in and will my body to move. By now, the rain has soaked through my jacket and into my skin leaving my clothes clinging to my body. I begin to realise how cold it has been sitting in the rain. My muscles have stiffened considerably. Steadily, I embark back to my family home. I have to pass through town to get to the forest outside which it sits. The lights of the centre in the distance look like warm flickering candles in the darkness. As I move closer, I hear the rain drumming on the roof covering the market place. I tread carefully, barefoot along the loose gravel street where water has already begun to gather. I pull into merchant's lane, where most retailers have permanent residency, to pick up a hunk of venison in preparation for the feast my family is hoping to have tomorrow night. It's a tradition; ever since Rayner, my eldest brother, went through his first reaping day.

A wave of warmth strikes me as I walk into the butchery. I nod politely toward the butcher who grins back at me. He automatically knows why I'm here and from behind the counter he pulls a large parcel and places it into a hessian bag.

"A little late this year aren't we, Johanna?" I cringe at the use of my full name and pull out my coin pouch slamming harder than intended on the counter. "I almost sold your meat to Vander, the old carpenter from down the street." We both know he wouldn't. Everyone's a little sentimental during this period, even those without children.

"Ah but you wouldn't do that to a poor girl who has to face the horror of tomorrow, would you Stebensio?" I coy in a sarcastic manner. Despite how anxious I am feeling about the reaping, I throw a hollow laugh at the end of my question. There are two ways to cope with the fear of the Hunger Games: you can laugh or, you can cry.

"Ah well, how could I be that cruel to such a loyal customer? How's your father holding up?"

"Fine. His leg gives him grief, but he is still working."

My father lost his leg in an accident a few years back. He was on duty when an uncoordinated twelve-year-old misjudged his axe work and a tree came crashing down without warning. A girl who was barely ten at the time was standing in the way of the falling tree and my father ran to push her out of range. Instead of crushing her, the tree crushed his leg. It was amputated and ironically replaced by a tree. A wooden mechanism called a prosthesis now attaches to the flesh just above where his knee used to be. The irony of it all is not lost on us. He still cuts trees, but he moves much slower than before.

"You're wetter than I remember you as well." Stebensio chuckles examining me up and down.

"Haha." I reply with sarcasm laced throughout my words. "I am sure it's just your imagination."

I haul the bag over my shoulder and tuck away my coin pouch. I turn to leave when a dark-haired boy enters the shop. He is wearing a black woollen hooded jumper and is barely wet despite the rain now thundering down outside. I turn to look a Stebensio.

"Why if it isn't my lucky day. Two idiots to grace my presence in a matter of five minutes." The boy looks up and grins. His dark eyes gleamed as he shook his hair off his face.

"Well if it isn't little Joh." He replied walking forward and rustling my hair. I scowl at him as he pulls back feigning disgust. "Ugh, why are you all wet and gross?"

"Call me little Joh again and I might drop a tree in your direction next time we are out on the field." I say suppressing a small grin. "What are you doing here, Gaige?" I ask. Really, this a stupid question. He is here for the same reason as me. Gaige is my age but is about six foot three with a heap of muscle on him. To be honest, I am rather petite for a lumberjack, but I can work an axe with more skill than most. My father first shoved an axe in my hand when I was three, so most of town assumed that logging was in my future. Gaige is in my class at school when we aren't scheduled on duty, and he is in my lumber squad when we are. I don't really do the whole 'friend' thing, but he is kind of an exception.

"Oh, haven't you heard? Stebensio and I are having a secret love affair." He retorts with a cheeky grin sending a wink my way. Stebensio looks rattled by this proposition and I can't help but laugh.

"You wish, kid. Now hurry up before I decide not to serve you. I have places to be, you know." The heavy-set butcher pulls out another hessian bag, thrusting it toward Gaige who rolls his eyes and ignores him, promptly turning back towards me.

"So, your turn to answer my question. Why are you all wet and filthy?" I know he doesn't really have a problem with this. We see each other in our worse states constantly.

"Ugh! Why can't either of you two big noses stay out of the business that determines whether I am wet or dry? Also, in case both of you were completely ignorant, it is in fact raining outside." I glare at both Gaige and Stebensio. They both chuckle at this. I am not exactly an intimidating person, especially when my thick dark hair is dripping waterfalls of leftover rain down into my face. I turn angrily and set to storm from the shop. But before I can make my exit, a hand sharply wraps around my wrist.

"Joh, I will see you tomorrow morning… before the reaping, yeah?" I pause for a moment, and nod. Gaige releases my wrist and I exit the shop with haste.

The rain is still bucketing down. I curse aloud as I dart with the sack in my arms through the town toward the small plain on the other side. My house is on the edge of a small forestry area. As I approach, I see the windows are gleaming with warmth and glittering with light. I charge through the door with such enthusiasm that I immediately slip on the wooden floorboards with my damp feet and slam into the back of my elder brother, Janison. He turns quick enough to catch me before I hit the ground. The venison isn't so lucky and with a thump, it meets the timber floor.

"Watch out, Joh." Janison says grinning cheekily. All of my family is fairly witty and unusually sarcastic. Well, with the exception of Leiah; Leiah is more of an introverted type. She gets that from our mother. The rest of us are nothing less than opinionative and rowdy. That's not a problem for Rayner, Janison or my father. Being loud seems to work in their favour. The whole town knows who they are and enjoys their company. However, for me, it's the contrary. My hothead and venomous tongue only ever seem to get me into trouble. Now don't get me wrong, I am not a violent person, I just don't like the idea of being used and ignored. I get that from my father. We don't really take any shit from anyone. I guess it's one of reason I don't like having people around me, too many clashing opinions. As I stated before, Gaige is an exception to this rule. I have known him since I was seven, and a lot has happened since then.

"Thanks, Janison…" I reply but I can't hold eye contact. I can't help but feel a bit guilty. Guilty for not having confidence in tomorrow's results. Guilty for avoiding and abandoning my family on a day such as today. Guilty for the fear that overwhelms my heart and mind if I dwell on my circumstance for too long. Guilty for answering the next question he will ask me with a lie.

"Joh, are you okay?" I look up into his bright blue eyes that light up like the blowtorch the carpenters in town use occasionally and are nothing like my own dark pools. This is another of my mother's traits that I don't have. There are dark circles around his eyes, and his lips are cracked with stress. It isn't uncommon for families to fall apart a little around this time of year, but he doesn't look like his usual self and it throws me a little. I feel guilty again, even though it's not my fault that we have suffer through the reaping tomorrow. Swallowing my sadness, I reply with two words which are perhaps the biggest lie I could tell.

"I'm fine, Jani." I smile grimly before leaning down and hauling the hessian bag over my shoulder to proceed into the kitchen. As I walk in, I quickly wished I hadn't.

Rayner and my father were leaning against the wooden counter top discussing something in low voices. Rayner quickly darted his eyes in my direction before nudging my father in the ribs.

"Hey squirt," Rayner said affectionately. Rayner is twenty-two years old, Janison is twenty and Leiah is eleven making this year the second in a row I have had to face a reaping alone. "Where have you been hiding?"

"I have been out with Gaige." I lie.

"Funny, he didn't seem to think you were with him when he came looking for you about two hours ago." I look at them and simply reply with a shrug. He drops the topic.

"Did you pick up the meat for tomorrow night?" My father asks quickly. I nod heaving it onto the counter. There is a tense silence between us. I look at my father and Rayner and frown.

"Okay, cut the crap. What's going on?" I demand with a hint of anger in my voice. They look at each other and then at me, although they can't maintain eye contact. "Spit it out."

"It's nothing. Forget it Joh." Rayner starts.

"I said tell-"

"Drop it Joh." Rayner remarks turning to exit. I go to grab his wrist, but my father pulls me back by the shirt .

"Just drop it, kid." He says calmly. I huff with indignation and exit the kitchen to seek the comfort of my bedroom. My clothes are piled on my bed. At first, I am confused because though I knew I was untidy, it was never of the extent of the pile that lay before me; however, then I saw the tangled mess of red hair poking out from within the mountain of clothes. Of course she is here.

"Leiah?" I stated. "What are you doing?" A startled movement caused the clothes to slowly topple off the bed, leaving a small girl with the ocean for eyes and a bushfire for hair curled up on my bed. I smiled to myself. Only Leiah would do something like that. It's quite foolish really, but I would never say that to her face. Our family accepts her weird ways without question. Maybe it's because she reminds us of mother. Maybe it's because she's the only one of us who has any hope of a proper childhood. Either way, it works.

"You weren't here…" Leiah mumbles into my pillow. A pang of guilt hits me and once again, I am quickly regretting my lonesome forest adventure. "I just… I just wanted to be around your smell…" I sit on the bed with her and pull my knees towards my stomach.

"I'm sorry Lei. I had to do… things."

"It's alright, I get it Hanna." She's the only one who calls me Hanna. She's the only one who is allowed. I generally go by Joh. Johanna was my mother's name. Shortly after she passed, I cut it down. I couldn't bear the constant reminder; the constant reminder she was dead. I still can't. Mind you, I still have Leiah, who in herself is a little walking mirror-image of my mother. I look nothing like her. You wouldn't know we were related if it weren't for the Mason name.

We all feel a little guilty about my mother's death, not that it was really our fault, but preserving Leiah's innocence feels like we are helping maintain the remaining memory of her existence. She died of cancer; the slow and painful kind where you become weaker and weaker until one day, you don't wake up. I shake my head to suppress the thoughts.

"So, are you going to explain why you destroyed my room?" I grin at her slyly.

"I didn't destroy it!" Her freckled face peers up at me, her eyes determined and set on mine. She is sensitive, but feisty. "I simply wanted to be in your scent." She states as if this is the most logical idea. I feign disgust.

"But wasn't it you who once said I smell like goat poo and dirty socks?" I say breaking my character at the end of the question to pull her in tight for a hug. By now, she is giggling. I fall back onto the bed sliding my hands under my head. I study the ceiling carefully; every crack, I try to memorise the very shade of green it is. After all, this could be the last time I ever do. I feel Leiah's eyes burning into my head. I realise she is probably trying to do the same thing to my face as I am doing to the roof. Out of nowhere, I feel a single tear slip from my eye. I am meant to be strong, I can't do this now. And sure enough, this single tear sends Leiah into hysterics. I sit up and pull her into my lap, cussing at myself internally. I start stroking and platting her hair.

"It'll be okay Lei." I state confidently. "I promise."

"I know you can't promise something like that Hanna!" She chokes out through sobs. I pull her closer to me.

"Do you remember the story she used to tell us, Leiah?"

"Who? Ma?"

"Yes, the one about the girl that lived in the trees."

"Yeah, why?" She whispered.

"Remember that girl, always. No matter where you are, or I am, she will protect us." She nodded slowly.

"Can you tell me the story again?" I nodded in reply. We both lay down, resting our heads on the pillow. She began trailing her fingers along my face softly, once again trying to absorb all the information possible about my facial structure through the tips of her fingers. I remove her hands and kiss them lightly.

"Before there was the Capitol, before there was District 7, there was the girl who lived in trees…" I began.

It didn't take long for Leiah to drift off. However, for me, I knew it was going to be a long night ahead.


End file.
